“We only met her incidentally. And—of course, the thing is quite different. Her family is among the oldest in Dorset. Surely the thing is quite different from this horrid affair with a squaw. Ugh! it is too awful! Disgusting! What must Guy think of your friends in this country? And the idea of you kissing him that way!” “I don’t know how I came to do that, Mamma. Somehow it seemed a very natural thing to do,” said Peg, blushing hotly. “I just couldn’t help it.” “Then let there be no more of such nonsense. Guy was very much shocked.” “Was he then, poor dear?” said Peg, with a grimace. “Oh, he will put it down to our extraordinary colonial ways. If Mr. Guy doesn’t like it, he can just lump it.” Her mother’s eyes were reading her daughter’s face with some anxiety. “Don’t be rude, child,” she said sharply. “I was not thinking of you, Mamma,” said Peg. “Well,” said her mother more calmly, “I am quite sure I can trust you, after all you have seen of the right sort of life and the right sort of people for the past two years, to show both self-control and sound common sense.” “I hope so, Mamma,” said Peg demurely. “And I hope too, Peggy, that you will remember that you must consider your future.” “I hope so, Mamma,” said Peg, more demurely. “Of course, Paul is a fine boy and he has many attractive qualities, but he is hardly more than a boy, and——” “He is over twenty-two, Mamma, just two years older than I.” “But he knows absolutely nothing of the world.” “Except everything there is to know of life in the great North land, and——” “Don’t interrupt me, child. You have your father’s habit of interrupting. What I mean is that he has seen nothing outside this country, and very little of that; no experience of men and affairs.” “Adelina told me a lot of wonderful things he is doing in Vancouver, wonderful for a boy.” “Adelina!” Her mother’s voice was full of scorn. “Much her judgment is worth in matters of this kind! And the girl is mad about him herself.” “Is she?” asked Peg, with a queer little smile. “And he would suit her admirably.” “Perhaps I ought to tell him, Mamma,” said Peg, with a gleam in her eye. “Only I don’t think he would listen to me.” Her mother looked at her sharply. “What do you mean, Peg? You are most annoying and perplexing.” “I mean, Mamma, that Paul loves me and would not look at Adelina.” Her mother gasped. “And how do you know, child?” “Oh, Mamma! How did you know? How does any woman know?” “Woman!” ejaculated her mother. “You know I must think of my future,” said Peg sweetly. “You see, I know Paul.” “You know Paul! Nonsense! You knew him seven or eight years ago.” “Paul is not the kind that changes, Mamma.” “Good heavens, child! What are you talking about?” “About Paul. And that he is in love with me and that he will never, never change.” The girl’s face was alight with a glow of ecstatic rapture. Her mother sank heavily into a chair. “And Guy?” she asked faintly.